Revelation to Vegeta
by Vaniti
Summary: "I find us developing a strange connection. And now a baby. I'm laughing because this is absurd.  He's a Saiya-jin prince and me...Well. Me? I think I shouldn't keep the baby. It's not going to change anything for a man who can't feel, right?" V x B
1. Chapter 1

**Revelation to Vegeta**

**By:** Vaniti

**Disclaimer:** Dragonball Z © Akira Toriyama

**A/N: **What would happen if Bulma, despite falling for the all-mighty Prince of Saiya-jins, made the choice that it was not right for her?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One <strong>  
>Goose<p>

Bulma threw her hands against the oval shaped mirror. The same mirror which had previously hung over the mahogany table, outside the downstairs restroom, for a countless number of years. Due to her falling inertia, it unhinged itself from the old nail it had once proudly dangled from, and sprayed across the ground in a momentarily pretty storm of ice shards that reflected her pallor stare. Her lower lip quivering, she stumbled backwards and knocked into the bathroom door. The smooth golden knob pierced into her back and she emitted a loud curse.

Clumsily her hands groped at it with urgent fever and she had just managed to pry it open when the acidic burning crawled like gnarled fingers up her throat. She had barely hurled her body over the porcelain toilet seat when the purging began. Hot, unforgiving tears scalded her eyes. The body convulsing heaves choked her and the numb pungent pain of it all consumed her.

_'Thank Kami I didn't have much to eat today.'_

Her stomach proceeded to empty the rest of the toxic alcohol she had over-consumed mere hours ago. Those Ketel One dirty martini's did not taste as delicious as they had then, especially mixed with her stupid choice of Wild Turkey shots. With a final dry sputter, she harshly spit one more time into the toilet, praying it was over. Gracelessly she fumbled with the toilet paper and peeled off a large strand that she dabbed at her mouth with. She had just raised her glossy cerulean eyes when complete horror paralyzed her.

Vegeta stood motionless in the doorway with an unreadable expression, which if Bulma had to guess, was a healthy mixture between shock and disgust.

"You Earth women are _revolting_." He finally said after a numbing pause of silence.

Anger shot through her veins so piercingly as if someone had taken a match to gasoline.

"Get the _hell _out of here you egotistical, nosy prick! If you want to talk _revolting_, have you _smelled _yourself after you get done training? _That's _revolting," She sputtered placing extra emphasis on her words due to her inebriated state.

His dark eyes soaked her in and she found herself pondering exactly what he saw; what was he thinking. He was shirtless and in loose navy training pants. Glistening perspiration illuminated his chest and face indicating that he had, in fact, most likely just completed a training session. A crumpled dove white towel was clenched in his right hand. He made a show of peering down at himself and then at her and the animal had the audacity to allow a slow, sadistic grin spread across his face.

"Such as at the present moment?"

"Get OUT you Saiya-jin monkey!"

In the blink of an eye, he was right behind her, no doubt using his Saiya-jin speed. Wordlessly he held the towel out to her and for a stunning instance she believed he was going to help her clean up.

Then she realized.

He had already used the towel to mop up his sweat and it was drenched in his salty after sparring odor. That same towel in which he was shoving in her face. Earsplitting screams of absolute horror erupted from her mouth and she flailed like a desperate fish attempting to return to the salvation of water. Her hands clawed at his slick skin urgently, and after a few more seconds had passed in excruciating slow motion, he released his hold on her and sauntered out of the bathroom chuckling the whole way.

At that second she discovered with dread that her stomach was not finished cleaning itself out and she found herself leaning over the seat retching again.

_'I cannot stand that distasteful man.'_

* * *

><p>Sunlight probed its bright fingers straight into her eyes and Bulma found herself squinting in agitation. It was the next morning after her little fiasco the previous night and she was sitting at the kitchen counter wishing for once it was a dreary day. All she wore was a satin hot pink robe from Victoria's Secret, and her hair was pulled back off her face with a headband. She stirred the thick celery stick in her drink and contemplated taking another round of Advil.<p>

Deciding against it for the moment, she flicked her eyes over to her Blackberry and then mentally scolded herself. She had by instinct been checking to see if Yamcha had called or texted her. He had not, of course. Not that it was a valid excuse, but it was part of the reason she had gone crazy last night at the bar. For yet another countless time Yamcha was up to his womanizing ways, and whenever she thought he had changed, she was slapped across the face to only discover that he had not.

Yesterday evening, she had headed out to the pub for a quick bite to eat and to enjoy a martini after unwinding from a busy, yet productive day.

It had not turned out to be so pleasing or simple.

Yamcha had been there with an attractive, thin brunette. If Bulma had to guess, who was years younger than she. She had found herself in an envious and wounded frenzy and scanned to pick out whatever flaws she could with this new skank. Then she had stopped herself; it was not this girl's fault. And she was above knocking someone else on those unwarranted grounds.

So to make a sloppy story short, it had been more than a martini.

The events of the evening blurred past her as pieces and pigments of dizzy color swam through her eyes.

_"She's seriously only a friend, Bulma."_

_ "Friends don't take the opposite gender 'friend' out to a bar alone, Yamcha."_

_ "That's not true. We were just grabbing a drink to chat for a bit."_

_ "Oh, so suddenly you're a social butterfly who merely just likes to _talk_ in a bar, to a beautiful woman, and absolutely nothing else?"_

_ "You're being a bit rudely absurd on this. You have to listen to me that it's meaningless."_

_ "Right, because I'm out of line here. How old is she, anyway? Isn't she a little young for you?"_

_ "What are you, jealous?"_

_ Bulma laughed then, but it was dry and brittle; void of any warmth. "That was your final strike. Because clearly you know what you're doing gave me room to be jealous. So long, Yamcha."_

Then following that heart-annihilating talk, were the temporarily soothing shots of whiskey. She recalled talking to strangers at the bar, dancing with these strangers, tipping exorbitantly high on her tab, the taxi ride home…Wait, there had been no taxi ride home. Then how had she…?

She quickly scrolled through her Blackberry's call history and her cheeks flamed at the memory.

**Son House**

**12:52am **

Oh, Kami, have _mercy_. She could only imagine what Chi-Chi had thought!

Not wanting to dwell on that embarrassment, and knowing an apology was in order, her thoughts unwillingly floated back to the source of her hurt. Why had things gone so sour with Yamcha? He really was a good person. As was she, but they both had major flaws about them. Him, being a bit of a womanizer. Her, being hardheaded and carrying around the mentality that she was always right (which she was).

She desperately wanted things to work between them. It was on that thought when the branding tears stung her ocean eyes. However, she would not let them get past that point.

They had been through so much together.

A surge of spitefulness welled up inside of her and she found herself storming over to the small liquor cabinet. Through her fuzzy vision she yanked out the bottle of Grey Goose, and dumped a healthy amount into the previously nonalcoholic Bloody Mary she had been drinking. Due to the force of how abruptly she poured the spirits, some of the laced tomato juice splashed up onto the marble counter.

And that's when she saw him.

_'Perfect timing, as usual.'_ She thought sarcastically and a bit defensive.

He looked at her; distant, unreachable, but there was something covered deep under the black blanket of his eyes.

Before she had time to contemplate it he was gone. Off to complete more training, without a doubt.

She didn't care.

He could mind his own damn Saiya-jin business.

* * *

><p>"Bulma, you're not going to be happy about this."<p>

It was later in the afternoon and she had been making feeble attempts at getting some work done. Bulma closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled deeply through her nose. Her head was pounding, her thoughts were muddled, and her vision was spotting.

"I can only imagine. What is it this time, Dad?"

Dr. Brief fumbled as if considering how to water down whatever he was about to tell her, but shrugged, deciding against it.

"Vegeta blew up the gravity room again."

Bulma could swear she was quite literally seeing red; that statement most certainly woke her up.

"What!" She shrieked, slamming down the blueprints for a new device she had been working on. "That untamed brute! I don't have time to fix or develop another one right now!"

"Bulma, sweetie —"

"How can you be so calm about this? Doesn't this strike you as just a big waste of time!"

"Yes, of course, but —"

"Ugh, forget about it right now. I need to be by myself."

Dr. Brief nodded in understanding and Bulma could feel his eyes on her back as she stormed from the room. She did not know where to begin. She was already behind in her assignments, and now she had to fix the gravity room on top of it. As much as she was loathe to admit it, and barely admit it to herself that she did, the whole falling out with Yamcha affected her more than it should. She had difficulty focusing and whenever she did, her thoughts were wandering. Not to mention, her quality of work had declined.

It was unacceptable.

Deciding her next strategy, she retrieved her initial blueprints for the Gravity Room and hesitated, not wanting to evaluate the damage quite yet.

Again, Yamcha's face floated through her mind and she scolded herself for being wretched; she had no time for this right now. She needed to distract herself, to numb her feelings, to get her work done. Tentatively setting the blueprints down, she faltered before she retrieved a glass from the cabinet. The bottle of vodka she had not put away from this morning remained sitting in the exact spot she left it. With an uncaring demeanor, she reached for it. That was when his voice stopped her.

"Why do you drink so much? Why put that in your body, woman?"

_'Again?'_

She ignored his first question with resentment rocketing through her. "What are you, stalking me? And my name is BULMA, so until you can get off your high-assed horse to address me as such, get out of my face."

"As you wish," he chuckled.

If Bulma didn't know any better, she would have to say he was enjoying this. That's when her wrath returned and she thrust an accusing finger at him. He picked the wrong moment to be getting in her business.

"And oh, would you look at who it is. The man who can't control himself to the point he _destroys_ property."

Vegeta shrugged rather indifferently. "It concerns me little that your equipment is not up to par."

Bulma swallowed back the barbed words on her tongue. She titled her head haughtily. "Hardly the case, Peasant Vegeta. When push comes to shove, it comes down to one thing; you can't control yourself. If this were, hm…let's say, _Goku_, for fun of course, he'd have enough power _and _control to keep himself from blowing the capsule up."

Bulma could hardly contain her triumphant gloat when she deliciously absorbed in the expression of pure shock and indignation shadow Vegeta's face. Much to his credit, he lifted his chin up to match her arrogant sentiments and clenched his fists to his sides.

"Bulma. What have I told you about mentioning that third-class's name in a superior way – about insinuating he has more skill than me, nonetheless – and not addressing me formally?" He asked, trying to sound as superior as possible.

Bulma paused to consider that for a moment, "Hm…I think you told me not to do it." She sent him a winning smile, dismissing his complaints momentarily. "Now, are you going to tell me just what you plan on doing about blowing the training capsule up this time? In three years before the androids arrive, this could be a lot of money wasted on your lack of control."

"If you want to talk about lack of control," Vegeta nodded his head towards the bottle that was still within her fingertip reach, "That's a good place to start. There is nothing admirable about putting that poison into your body and then dealing with the after-effects. Look at yourself. Even now I can tell you are experiencing it."

Somehow receiving this commentary from Vegeta, a proud man who barely acknowledged her except for being a pompous ass, unsettled her. Its seed buried itself deep within her core.

"What the hell does it matter to you?" Amazing even herself, she did not blow up on him. Instead, she spoke in a deadly quiet tone.

Vegeta appeared to be mildly nonplussed at her question, or maybe her even asking it, but smoothly regained his composure.

"Because you won't be much help to me passed out and unable to fix the gravity machine, now would you?"

Defiantly, Bulma took a large swig from the bottle as if to show his words did not matter to her. To prove to him that she could care less. She would do as she pleased. However, there was a ghost in his expression; something indecipherable. She did not know the Saiya-jin man well enough to know what it was.

But for some reason she suddenly felt ashamed of her behavior.

Gingerly, she set the clear bottle of Goose down and she found the errant words spilling from her lips before she could stop them.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. Me and Yamcha, that is. Things were finally supposed to work out. Now everything is wrong and I don't see how I can fix it." As soon as she had spoken, she regretted it.

Why would Vegeta care or even tolerate listening? Bulma herself loathed weakness and she sure as hell knew that Vegeta did as well. The man didn't even have any feelings besides feeling superior and the need to fight.

_'Stupid, stupid, stupid.'_

Vegeta remained there, unmoving and dark, with his feet firmly rooted to the ground. His muscular, tanned arms were still crossed over his swollen chest. But he did cock his head slightly to the side, as if to get a better look at her.

"Yamcha. That weak human man, the pathetic excuse for a warrior? Don't allow such a fool to get you to this state. You only allow people to affect you if you let them." Now the Saiya-jin prince did move to make his exit.

He moved with unbelievably quiet grace, and said one more thing on the way out of the kitchen. He tilted the side of his face to the right to carry his proud words to her ears.

"And you _are_ better than that."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hello there my victims! This is the much revised version of "Revelation to Vegeta" that was posted under my original account approximately 8 or more years ago. This does have a bit slow beginning, but I felt it was imperative to creative a sort of momentum before things spiral out of control. Also I am _not_ trying to make Bulma a raging alcoholic, and please note that I am not here to bash Yamcha either, thanks. Comments, questions, reviews and much appreciated. Sincerely yours —

~Vaniti


	2. Chapter 2

**Revelation to Vegeta **

**By:** Vaniti

**Disclaimer:** Dragonball Z © Akira Toriyama

* * *

><p><strong>Two<strong>

Truffles

* * *

><p>"Bulma, hi, sorry you've caught me off guard here. Is everything okay?" A bit flustered Chi-Chi made an effort to push rebellious ebony tendrils from her face.<p>

"I'm fine. Fine. I just wanted to stop by to say hello, and uh," Bulma flicked her eyes uncomfortably to the left, "Apologize."

A few lines smoothly creased over the other woman's forehead. She hastily finished wiping her hands on the white apron wrapped around her frame.

"Apologize? Uh, where are my manners; come in. Something to drink? I'm sorry, the place is a _complete_ mess. I was just marinating this chicken here…Not that you care, but what I mean is, just come on in."

Bulma chuckled. For one thing, the Son home looked essentially immaculate. But her laugh was more out of anxiety rather than Chi-Chi's evident uneasiness as well.

"Thanks, Chi-Chi. Sorry for dropping in unexpected. I know you're busy. But I didn't want to say this over the phone."

Chi-Chi fell silent not knowing how to properly respond. Sensing this, Bulma held up her hands. Her reasoning came in a jumbled rush.

"I wanted to apologize for the other night. When I called your home at such an inappropriate hour. I hope I didn't wake you or cause any trouble. I'm so sorry."

Releasing a breathy laugh the raven-haired woman swiped her right hand through the air.

"Bulma, is that all? You had me concerned for a second. I thought something was _actually_ wrong."

Bulma blinked and allowed relief to spread through her pores.

"Well, I didn't want to let it hang. I want to be honest." She stalled for calming time, "I had been drinking after Yamcha and me officially called it quits. And needless to say, I don't remember calling, but I'm regretful that I did."

A peculiar expression molded Chi-Chi's features before she gesticulated towards the oak kitchen table.

"Sit down. I just brewed coffee minutes ago. I'll get the condiments and we'll talk."

Taken aback, Bulma did as she was told. As she slipped into the wooden seat she wondered what the other woman had to say to her. And if she was surprised before it increased when Chi-Chi reached to a cabinet and retrieved a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream. With a thud she placed it on the table along with their respective coffee mugs.

"Help yourself. Now, first things first," Chi-Chi sought to make eye contact with Bulma, "I'm sure you have your opinions of me. I'm sure you all think me as Goku's nagging wife who doesn't know how to lighten up. I understand. But, here's what I want to say…that I'm not as frigid as you may think. I, well, I have to be tough or nothing would get done. Goku can run wild and that would be that. Which would be fine, except in the real adult world, we have responsibilities. Anyway, with that being said, I understand and your apology wasn't necessary. If…you need someone to talk to…Don't count me out. I'm glad to listen if you ever need someone."

If Bulma was dumfounded by this confession she almost figuratively fainted when, Chi-Chi, poured a healthy shot of Bailey's into her mug and took a satisfied gulp.

Realizing she had not responded, let alone moved, Chi-Chi raised her eyebrows in polite inquisition. This brought the turquoise-haired woman back with a start and she hastily wrapped her hands around her own mug.

"That's really, really good to hear that. Thank you." Bulma hesitated contemplating her next words. "I guess it goes without saying that it's about Yamcha."

Chi-Chi leaned forward to indicate she was listening.

"We're done. I know what you're thinking…"  
>"What am I thinking?" Chi-Chi requested in amusement.<p>

"'Again? Well, they'll resolve things eventually…' " Bulma trailed off with an arched eyebrow.

"Maybe not in that exact wording but you got the gist down."

"Mmhm. But honestly…I don't have the drive, the motivation to do this anymore. We're not exactly teenagers any longer; to keep playing at this is just, well, pathetic. And embarrassing. Besides, while three years seems far away, it really isn't. He needs to focus on training and I…Well, I have to keep fixing gravity chambers because they keep getting blown up."

Chi-Chi changed what she was going to say. "Speaking of…How…are things with, uh, _Vegeta_ being there?"

Bulma had planned to continue with her Yamcha tirade but froze, bewildered to hear a very different name being addressed.

"Vegeta?"

The raven-haired woman took another swill of Bailey-laced coffee and nodded her head a bit uncertainly.

"What about his Highness? He's exactly as you'd expect; haughty, pigheaded, obsessed with training. All he really does. Besides getting on my last nerve."

"You mean…you talk to him?"

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Unfortunately. But it's more like me putting him in his place when he gets too unbearable."

"Please tell me you don't get too aggressive with him? I don't want anything to happen to you."

Bulma almost laughed.

"I'm not too concerned about him. As long as I provide a roof over his big head, food in his fat stomach, and training equipment to blow up…He'll keep me around."

* * *

><p>"Woman, what in the hell is that? And <strong>why<strong> is the gravity chamber not up and running yet?"

He had not technically phrased it as a question but Bulma found herself glancing up in exasperation nonetheless.

Her return home had been delayed by some hours. She had not expected to stay so long at the Son house. Clearly, things had not gone as expected (in the best kind of way) and she had remained in the inviting kitchen chatting it up with Chi-Chi. Now she was faced with the conceited Saiya-jin man, who, a good portion of their conversation had revolved around.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had to answer to you over every small detail of my life."

"I could care less about the modicum details of your life, woman."

"Then your point?"

"Your habits disgust me —"

"Then don't ask about them, genius."

Bulma tossed her head up superiorly and with a flip of her hand brushed her hair over her shoulder. It was that moment she realized her hands had not yet been cleaned from the grime and oil; parts of the glorious aftermath from fixing machines. Vegeta noticed it at the same instant as well and wiped the smirk as quickly as it came. With the sort of practice that came from a self-satisfied individual he lifted his head in appropriate disdain.

"Do _not_ say a word. I can't tolerate your voice on top of everything else," Bulma threatened.

"Very well then; the feeling's mutual."

"Then you'd best be on your way." She initiated the universal "shoo" gesture.

He did not take the hint. At that point, they had engaged in an impromptu staring contest. Neither wanted to be the first to look away for that would indicate defeat. So she remained firmly planted where she was, in her oil covered jean shorts and v-neck shirt, and he in loose training pants. Seconds passed by in leisurely wait. And he did not disengage eye-contact, but he did move his ridiculously muscular arms to cover the planes of his chest.

"Where did you run to this morning?" He finally spoke.

She observed him warily. She had not expected him to say a single word, let alone slam her with a question. This man, or Saiya-jin, alien (whatever) he may be, was an individual she secretly walked on eggshells around. **Not** because she was afraid of him. Although in truth, when she thought about it, he could end her life so shockingly easily by a flick of his fingers. But she was tentative of him as to who _he_ was and what he _represented_.

Bulma did not know what possessed her the day she invited him to stay at Capsule Corp. until the androids arrived. Her friends, the Z-warriors, had been downright speechless at her offer. But she had not been afraid of the Saiya-jin prince. She had stunned the group more so at the flippant way she addressed Vegeta. She had never felt frightened. As far as she was troubled, he was a man, was he not? Perhaps his obsession for becoming the greatest warrior, or to beat Goku, or even to become a Super Saiya-jin were his primary concerns. But she was still a striking, affluent woman who was allotting him permission to reside in her home. Not to mention any kind of training equipment available at his fingertips.

The ruthless Saiya-jin prince did not get under her skin in the least bit in the fear tactics; her sanity however, dealing with his attitude, was another story in and of itself.

"And you noticed me to be missing? I'm flattered you pay such close attention to my whereabouts." She skewered him with a direct stare.

His posture tensed and his spine went rigid as he straightened himself.

"You vain, stupid woman. I was asking for I need to know when the gravity room will be fixed and ready for use again."

"Hey, reality check. In life, tossing the devices of name-calling doesn't deliver blows like punches do in the battle field. And if there's anyone who's stupid, it's you. Next time, try not to get so slap-happy in there and have more respect for someone else's property. I should have it up and running in a few days, thanks to me saving a backup skeleton capsule."

Vegeta crossly opened his mouth but Bulma interjected. She thrust her index finger at a rectangular steel box, which was unhinged to display its internal splay of wiring; the same target Vegeta had previously criticized as he made his grand entrance.

"And this right here, what you so articulately inquired about, is a new control panel that I'll be installing in it. It's a sensor that detects abrupt changes in gravitational pulls before landing in a danger zone. Different gravitational energy will travel at the velocity of light, and when you train you tend to pull your own energy at periodic intervals. It creates an imbalance in comparison to the manipulated gravitational pull. While it may not be perfect – so far no technology has been able to accurately measure gravitational waves, after all – it will at least be able to record when there's an abnormality."

Bulma slanted her head when he did not say anything at first.

"And in the meantime?" Was all he said in reply.

"We still have training rooms in the basement with full equipment and weights. Now go knock yourself out; preferably, literally."

Bulma received immense, secret pleasure noting the left vein in temple beginning to throb.

Without another word or indication that he had heard her he rotated on his heel. And he made his grand exit, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. She smirked. Of course, what could he say? He had no knowledge about the topic and she naturally had been correct in every aspect. Without any trouble the ball had been on her side of the court. She also had another private triumph because realistically she could _probably _get the gravity machine, without the gravitational pull sensor, up and running today. But she felt like taking her time and completing other projects that she had piled up along the way.

Smugly, she decided it was just about time to treat herself to a little break. She had some gourmet Belgium truffles that had arrived this morning, courtesy of her mother's sweet tooth. This would be a perfect opportunity to try some before heading back to the lab to continue her work.

Stretching her arms taunt over her head, to soothe her knotted shoulder blades, she had just transcended into the kitchen when she halted mid-step.

Disbelief and agony washed over her so stridently she felt as though she had been elbowed in the gut. Sitting with severe posture at her kitchen table was Yamcha with her mother. And as if that had not been enough of a blow to her, the truffles were opened in-between them along with the ceramic pot of tea and other condiments.

"Mom. Yamcha. What are you doing here?" Her cerulean eyes blinked the angry burning that had barricaded up.

"Oh, Bulma, sweetie —Look who decided to drop by and see you! I was just about to go get you, but we didn't want to disturb your work."

"Bulma," Yamcha said remorsefully, immediately springing to his feet with his hands clasped in front of him.

His whole entire body language requested forgiveness.

She did not care. Her betrayed ire coursed through her so hotly that it overwhelmed any sadness remnants she had been experiencing. And normally, she _would_ have allowed her temper to assume control and pitch quite the fit. Now, she did not want to even give him that kind of attention; he did not deserve that type of attention. So with shaking measured control she firmly rooted her feet into the ground and cast him an even stare.

"Leave."

The uncomfortable monster tiptoed around the room and her mother placed a surprised hand to her mouth. Yamcha blanched and swallowed thickly.

"Bulma, please, I came here to talk to you."

"I see that. But I don't want to talk to you. That leaves us at an impasse, does it not?"

"Please listen to me. You have every right to not want to talk to me, I'll grant you that. But could you gimme just one minute? One?" His coal stare uncomfortably flicked over to Mrs. Brief who did not quite know what to do with herself.

"One would be too _much_. I'm not going to repeat myself again."

"Bulma, I'll get down on my knees if I have to. At _least _let me talk to you for a second."

Her mouth moved into a thin line with the hints of a frown tugging at the corners. She looked into his eyes. Without the break of eye contact she pointed in the general direction of the kitchen door.

"One. Out there."

His scarred features molded to relax some. He nodded his head gratefully and did not waste any time to do as he was asked, surely not wanting to lose his opportunity. The silence was predominant and weighed as a constant reminder on their shoulders. He hastily reached for the knob and opened the door for her. She stepped out and spun on her heel to face him; all business.

Yamcha inhaled to gather his bearings. Absently using his fist to tap the front door shut, his eyes did not break away from the turquoise-haired woman.

"We've been fighting a lot recently."

Bulma felt like smacking him and screaming, "Well, duh, you think!" from the top of her lungs. Instead, she continued to fix him with her icy stare.

"And I'm not happy about that. Look, Bulma, I know I messed up. I did something really stupid, but somehow, I want to make it right. I mean, on top of everything else, it's not as though we can break off complete contact with each other, no matter how much you may like that right now. We have all mutual friends and are here for the same cause." He paused here allowing his words to hang in the air.

"Yamcha, I've heard this before."

Pain crept into his features and she interjected before he could spring a response on her.

"I've heard this _all _before. And you know what makes me angry? How stupid and trite we sound. Haven't we beaten this into the ground already? Hasn't it been enough? You're absolutely right; we will always have to see each other given our circumstances. But to be a couple?"

Bulma swallowed and did not dare to even take a peek at him. She did not want to change her mind by looking at his face.

"I think it's best if we just drew up a surrender flag on that."

Yamcha noticeably froze and a tremble flowed down his muscular body.

"I don't want to give up, though."

"That's kind of out of the question. This is a battle that's been lost. Indefinitely."

A warm gust of air rippled and Yamcha's ki flared. Without warning, gathering his center, he took off into the sky, leaving the dissipating whips of power behind him. All too soon he was gone as soon as he came. In her haze, it made Bulma wonder if he had been there at all.

When there had been no other change in environment, the fingers of reminiscence began to prod her. It was still a pleasantly lukewarm day. A careful breeze continued to tickle by and bend lush blades of grass. Capsule Corp. was still glinting in the sunlight, proud and imposing. And Bulma remained rooted in place and gingerly placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs.

Her privacy was interrupted by an all-too familiar callous voice.

"I can't **believe **you'd even give that loser the time of day."

Indignation surged at being caught in such a private moment and by _him _nonetheless. Bulma hastily rubbed at her eyes and worked to fix him with what she hoped was a menacing stare.

"Don't you have anything else better to do than eavesdrop? This is personal, you Saiya-jin jackass! What are you even doing out _here_ in the first place?"

Clearly, in sadistic form, enjoying her distress he propped his back against the side wall of Capsule Corporation, pleased.

"I sensed a chi and went to investigate. Unfortunately, it was that nobody." Vegeta paused thoughtfully. "Well, that nobody who you seem stupid enough to be caught up on."

"I'm not 'caught up' on anyone."

"That certainly didn't look like nothing."

"And, I owe you – of all people – no explanation for who's involved in my business!"

"Well, you are hosting me at your home."

"No kidding."

"So, I was making sure no one was messing with you." He abruptly turned to head back. "It would be inopportune if I didn't have somewhere to live until the androids arrive. I am, the only hope for their defeat, after all."

Bulma felt her temper surge and she childishly resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. Distasteful man!

She had never met anyone so bad-mannered or so in love with themselves.

_'Except, perhaps, yourself.'_ A little voice whispered in her mind which she promptly dismissed.

Yeah, right.

She'd rather drink bleach, walk on hot coals, or even eat slugs before having anything in common with that boorish **Vegeta**.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hello, we meet again after a bit of a break! My apologies, I'll feebly blame the overtime I've been working. So on to the story! Here we are with a bit of a backbone chapter more than anything. Not too much going on here besides the beginnings of, well, 'something'. ;] I had to cut this chapter in half because of length, so the next one will be posted relatively soon once edits are made and the last few pages written. I promise more action next chapter. I'm interested in hearing your thoughts thus far? Until next time, most sincerely yours —

~Vaniti


	3. Chapter 3

**Revelation to Vegeta**

**By:** Vaniti

**Disclaimer: **Dragonball Z © Akira Toriyama

* * *

><p><strong>Three<br>**Heat

Bulma did not want to see anyone.

She was not depressed, exactly. Her tongue simply would not cooperate and her brain would not allow words to solidify. A plethora of thoughts had settled in her brain, making camp, and it preoccupied the turquoise-haired woman. Rather out of character she remained in bed. It was not precisely comfortable. The cream and taupe sheets had long been warmed by her restless body temperature. The blinds and sheer curtains were still drawn because she had not yet gotten up. Well, that was a bit of a lie.

She had gotten up twice to pee in her adjourning bathroom, once to grab the remote only to turn on and then off the television, and then one more time to contemplate pouring whiskey in her cold tea left on her dresser from last night. Presently she was fighting an internal battle on whether or not to do so. She had not thus far because…because…

_'Why do you put that stuff in your body woman?'_

Her eyes immediately narrowed in defense. Where the hell did that come from? That Saiya-jin pig should be the absolute last thing on her mind. And what did she care if he disapproved of her? Good, really. It merely assured her that they would have less vocal communication with one another.

_'It bothers you about _his_ disapproval…'_

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up. Where did these infuriating inner voices come from, anyway? What a complete and utter nuisance.

Her gaze wandered over to her Blackberry. With painful restraint she ignored it and did not even attempt to glimpse at the display screen. Somehow she knew it would make it all worse.

In truth, she should be up on her feet and working. She still had a project to complete and it was not like her to be so tardy in finishing a simple assignment. She chanced a peer at the clock next to her bed; 12:37pm. Well, this had to be some kind of a record. Especially because she was not hung-over or physically sick.

She just…couldn't will herself out of bed.

In crude terms, her heart hurt and her brain was a swamp of sinking misery. She had been proud of her strength for not showing Yamcha any true emotion the previous day. In the end, she realized her decision to hold her ground would be best for the both of them. But it didn't mean it made the result hurt any less or affect her differently.

She needed, she craved, a distraction.

This was essentially impossible. After all, she was willingly confined to her bed at the present.

And that was when a random, peculiar thought flitted invitingly across her mind.

As soon as it developed, her defense kicked in and she pushed it vehemently away.

Still, it was not enough to shake the image of none other than Vegeta's naked body from behind her, and more imperatively, inside of her.

She bolted upright and stumbled out of bed. She had to be sick.

No sane individual would ever allow themselves to entertain the vulgar thought.

Regardless of what it was, it had been the kick start to get her up and moving. Life still went on and she could not waste precious life mourning and moping over a failed relationship. If she did, it would consume her and she could not afford that. The deadline for the androids arriving would be here before she knew it. She had to do all she could in her own way to help.

Bulma Brief got back on her feet.

* * *

><p>She couldn't shake the dirty image from her mind all day. Sipping on a glass of water? There it was. Fixing the gravity machine? There it was. Washing her hands? Well, there it was again.<p>

She was a woman obsessed, so to speak. Or, suffering from some sort of psychotic disorder. She _had_ to be to even consider the notion. Where had those erotic thoughts even come from in the first place? She told herself it surely was from a lack of sleep. Not only that, but it had to be the impulsive instinct to find a far-fetched diversion to ease her anguish.

And she would settle for these rationalizations because to think otherwise was alarming.

With numb decisiveness, Bulma had just returned the container of cottage cheese and moved to shut the refrigerator door. She jumped with a start. Standing about a meter away, with eerie stealth, was the person she had just deemed being a distraction. Also known as the same source she had not seen since witnessing her concluding ending with Yamcha. She did not know how she had missed him being there until now.

But Bulma would not tolerate him having any semblance of an upper hand.

"I want to let you know that it's upsetting you're in such close proximity to me. Personal space, thank you. But more importantly, you should know you were in the wrong with what you did yesterday." Her tone was brittle and she did not permit him to have the opening to speak.

"Oh?" Vegeta's infliction clearly indicated his flippant tone.

"Yes, oh. I don't know where you get off invading my privacy and listening in to business that does not concern you."

"Hm."

"Are you stupid? Do you not understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Bulma lurched back in startle when Vegeta's muscular arm sailed right past her face and into the refrigerator door. He did not move his arm, which was stationed mere centimeters away from her. His eyes locked onto hers.

"I heard what you said, woman. But if you think I express any remorse, I'll gladly remind you it's a foreign sentiment to me. If you don't like it, then perhaps you should think twice about inviting a Saiya-jin to live in your home."

She attempted to calm the rapid palpitations shuddering through her chest.

"I would hold onto that gem of information except I would rather burn to death than host anyone similar to you. And if you're done with your daily rounds of getting on my last nerve, I have work to do."

Much to her piercing surprise he lowly chuckled.

"Perhaps your spirit was better suited to one of Saiya-jin. In any case, I'm here because I have a request to make."

"A request?" Bulma arched a turquoise eyebrow skeptically at the change of pace.

"Yes."

Bulma subconsciously bit her lower lip. This had caught her off guard a bit. Just what did he want now? More training equipment? Background information on Goku?

She did not notice the way his eyes moved to where she absentmindedly nibbled lightly on her bottom lip in consideration.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" Bewilderment flitted into her tone.

"What you're doing with your mouth."

"My mouth…?"

Vegeta growled in exasperation and abruptly pulled his arm back from where it had remained locked next to her. He turned on his heel and spat something at her as he retreated. Bulma's face was a complete question mark.

"That action is a primitive Saiya-jin indication that…forget it. My request was I need more red meat to eat. There isn't nearly enough in this accommodation. Have your people retrieve some at once."

She carefully studied the spot he had just been some time after his hasty departure. Her mouth? Asking for more food?

What a bizarre, strange man.

She felt a fresh headache coming on…

* * *

><p>The next couple of months were paced in a peculiar way. She was busy, but it was tedious work. Due to the constant repetition and similar tempo it was to Bulma's astonish that today was already June first. And summer was most definitely in full swing. Whenever she would slip out to run errands gleeful kids were everywhere enjoying their extended summer break. The weather had evolved from the pleasant lukewarm of spring to particularly scorching climates. The humidity was up, and Bulma was immensely pleased with their air conditioning at Capsule Corp.<p>

It was on those reflections that the turquoise-haired genius wiped an arm over her clammy brow and decided to take the rest of the day off. She had been so busy she couldn't distinctly recall what in the name of Kami had happened to April and May.

She took a cold shower that felt fantastic against her overheated body. Slipping in jean shorts and a hot pink tank she pulled her hair in a ponytail and grabbed a capsule containing a random car. In higher spirits she all but flew down the stairs and out the door. Even though the air was heavy she couldn't help but grin when the sun greeted her bare arms and legs. She pressed the compressed capsule and released a random navy hover car.

To her right the gargantuan training capsule rattled reminding her of the Saiya-jin man. The warrior that could be found in there nine out of ten times, without fail. She hesitated, and figured what was the harm in checking in on him and to see if he needed anything?

"Vegeta," she called out in a singsong voice popping her head in.

She beamed, still in high spirits, when she caught a glimpse of the momentary taken aback expression on his tanned face. He straightened his back and fluidly leapt to his feet. His bare chest heaved from exertion and was glistening in sweat. He stared at her hard. In the last few months he would have immediately exploded into a tirade for interrupting him. Now, she was at least familiar enough to know what that hard, cold stare meant.

Despite the "get out or you'll face the consequences" look she explained herself not at all deterred by it.

"I'm running into town. Do you need anything?"

"Yes," Vegeta said gruffly, "For you to go away and leave me to my training."

"Pig. Why do I even bother being nice to you?"

"I agree."

She rolled her eyes.

"Not even any steak?" She tried with a sweet smile.

This temporarily ceased his movement and he peered at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Steak?"

"That's what I said, big guy."

"Perhaps I could allow for you to pick that up then."

_'Generous of you.'_

Yet she felt triumphant she had gotten him to agree to something – in his own proud way – and she winked before placing her hand on the doorframe.

"I'll see what I can do then. See you later!"

She bounded back down the training Capsule steps without looking back. She did not notice that Vegeta's onyx stare had never left her.

* * *

><p>Vegeta stared for a long while at the gravity control panel after the Earth woman had left. He took the opportunity to catch his breath before he started back up with his training. Something most peculiar, unidentifiable, skittered through his chest. He did not recognize it and therefore it made him uncomfortable.<p>

One thing was for certain. The vain, arrogant but undeniably beautiful scientific genius was affecting him in ways he was not familiar with.

Vegeta, Prince of all Saiya-jins, did not like it.

* * *

><p>"Krillin, hey! What brings you here? I was just making dinner, why don't you stay?" Bulma was pleasantly surprised to see her friend.<p>

It was around six 'o clock in the evening and the humidity had barely let up. While the sun was just starting to inch towards the other horizon it was still searing. Her short friend stood on her doorstep in his traditional orange gi and smiled. If Bulma didn't know any better, she would say something was bothering him. She supposed if he wanted to talk about it, he would…

"Sorry I didn't call or nothing; I was kinda in the area. Hope this isn't a bad time." His eyes darted back and forth.

"Don't be ridiculous Krillin. Since when do you have to call?" Bulma laughed, "So what's up?"

"Nothing, really. Just came to talk…"  
>"Talk? Yeah, right. What's going on? You need something?" She was amused that he was beating around the bush.<p>

His concerned orbs meet hers and that was when a funny pang crawled through her. She would not know what he had to say for a gruff voice interrupted them.

"Woman, when can I expect rations?" Vegeta was striding up to them, finished with his training for the second.

"You mean dinner?" Bulma rolled her eyes.

Vegeta met her gaze sardonically.

Krillin's apprehensive stare bounced between the two as if he were watching a tennis game. There was no question that the sight of Vegeta made Krillin nervous. Bulma could hardly see why. It wasn't like Vegeta was going to do anything…yet.

"Uh, look. I see this is a bad time. I'll catch you later, Bulma, okay?"

"Wait, you're leaving already? You just got here," she said incredulously.

"I know, but I don't want to intrude if you're going to be making supper. Like I said, I'll catch you at another chance."

She opened her mouth to protest when Krillin muttered a fast, "see ya" and took off into the evening sky. Her eyes were round as she watched his short figure grow smaller.

"That was a waste of time." Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest as they both observed Krillin's fading aura dissipate into the violet and indigo horizon.

"I'm really not sure what he wanted. That was so weird," she confessed.

"As I said, a waste of time."

Bulma scowled and placed her hands on her hips. "I suppose I should get a hold of him later and ask…"

Vegeta did not say anything and Bulma shrugged.

"Well, anyway. Looks like it's just going to be you and me for dinner tonight. That is, if you can lower yourself and tolerate eating with a commoner," she smirked.

He tilted his head in the air haughtily still remaining rooted in place with his arms folded. "I believe I can manage."

"Whoa, what's this? You're actually agreeing to eat with me? Has the hotness gotten to you, Saiya-jin prince?"

"Hardly. The temperatures on planet Vegeta would put this to shame."

"I bet."

"Meaning what?" His coal orbs rotated over to her once again.

"Meaning," she turned on her heel to head over to the grill in back, "Even if they weren't, you'd still say they were to one up me."

She did not hear him reply so she was startled when he had beaten her to the grill – no doubt either using his inhuman speed or flight – and waited for her with a smirk on his face.

"Allow me."

She raised an eyebrow and snorted. "You? Cook? Do you even know how to work a grill?"

"Cooking is a survival skill anyone should be capable of. Although I'd much rather prefer to start a fire."

"Look, caveman. That's a grill, which is what we use in civilization nowadays. I suppose if you don't know how to use one, I'd be more than happy to show you."

"How dare you think I'm incapable of using your third-rate devices? And have _you_ demonstrate? I think not."

"Then put your money where your mouth is," she challenged. "Here."

Bulma stepped aside and exaggeratedly made a sweeping gesture towards the stainless steel grill. Vegeta grandly swept past her and eyed the slabs of red meat that rested on the tongs. He contemplated the set up for a moment before he raised his right hand. A deep navy ball of light materialized at his will and he shot it at the steaks. Bulma let out a horrified gasp and within seconds, the grill had not blown up as she had feared, but the steaks were smoking. While a bit more of the well-done side they were cooked thoroughly.

He smirked proudly. "As you were saying?"

"It isn't the right way of doing it. But I'll suppose it'll have to do," Bulma huffed.

She did not want to give him satisfaction over anything.

Not being able to take his smug smirk any longer she irritably excused herself to grab the potato casserole and salad. It was not until she had retrieved the food from the fridge that a looming thought was brought into her consciousness.

Something, indecipherable, had changed between them.

Perhaps it was only temporary, or even the heat, but she had enjoyed this brief interlude so far with the Saiya-jin prince. It was nothing to brag about, or even remarkable, but she had seen a more humane side to him.

And its implications scared her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hello everyone! Hope you've been enjoying yourself these last few weeks. When I write a story like this, I prefer to take my time to build up a gradual relationship, so it seems more plausible. What is going through Vegeta and Bulma's heads? What did Krillin want? How are things going to progress now the ice has melted, so to speak? I personally am looking forward to the next chapter. Reviews, comments, suggestions make me very happy and are appreciated. Until next time, most sincerely yours —

~ Vaniti


	4. Chapter 4

**Revelation to Vegeta **

**By:** Vaniti

**Disclaimer:** Dragonball Z © Akira Toriyama

* * *

><p><strong>Four <strong>

Storm

Warm fingers of wind whisked tendrils of her turquoise hair across her face. Bulma sat simply in a navy tube top and shorts the color of cream. Her long arms were wrapped around her knees and she rested her chin on top of them in contemplation. She was seated on the very top of Capsule. Corp. overlooking her stretch of property and the surrounding land. She loved to sit up here. Most people thought it would be impossible to get up there or even crazy. But she had her own ladder that she would use to escape through the sunroof. She had it especially designed to getaway when she did not want to be found. On stressful days, like that one for example, she immensely enjoyed coming up there to think and not be bothered.

The slight problem with today was that although the air was comfortably warm, the sky was rapidly losing battle to heavy, deep-bellied clouds. As she stared off dreamily, she noted the sun losing more and more authority. A satisfying, yet warming rumble confirmed her predictions.

"Yep," she said out-loud to herself.

"Are you really having a conversation with yourself, and then being agreeable to whatever idea you debated?"

Bulma did not jump in startle. It was no surprise the owner of that haughty, gruff voice could easily find her up here. After all, the owner did not need a human's ladder to climb.

He was able to fly instead.

"And look who so conveniently decided to interrupt and invade the only private time I get all day. Classic. Give yourself a hand, Prince of Saiya-jins. You're not predictable at all."

She did not have to peer over her shoulder to observe his displeasure.

"Your Earthling means of sarcasm have little effect on me."

"Probably because you don't understand them."

"That's not it. They say sarcasm is the lowest form of astuteness."

"Then I'm sure you know all about sarcasm."

Now, she was finally surprised, when he permitted her a throaty chuckle. He _almost_ sounded human. Almost.

"Not bad, Bulma."

Bulma? BULMA? He just addressed her by her name? Now something must truly be going on; Vegeta had acted like a human being with feelings twice in a row.

And she bit her lower lip at what the warmth added to his gruff tone did to her.

"Okay, what gives. I know you didn't break away from your training to come chitchat with me. What can I do for you today, Prince?" She smoothed some pieces of hair from her face as another, louder crack of thunder growled.

He was silent for a moment, which made her worry. During his prolonged silence another peel of thunder banged.

"Well? Do you not hear the conditions of the weather or are you deaf?"

"Yeah. I hear them. But it's not raining yet."

"It doesn't need to be, you stupid woman. The rain is not the only time you may be struck by lightning."

Now she did rotate to skewer him with her gaze at last. An impish, wide grin impulsively spread across her mouth.

"Are you insinuating that you're worried about me?"

"Do not be so vain! I am insinuating nothing! What is there to insinuate? The weather is about to storm; you could be hit by lightning and fried. These are hard, cold facts."

"Awe, Vegeeetaaaa —"

"Stop that! Stop that right now!"

"You really do care about me —"

"Get over yourself, you hopeless woman!"

"You're going to make this girl _blush —_"

"ENOUGH!" Vegeta's roar was lost in another clap of thunder.

In the blink of an eye he was in front of her and had her surrounded by his massive arms of muscle. He looked directly into her eyes and Bulma swallowed back the cotton ball that suddenly seemed to be lodged in her throat. She felt the warm dewdrops of rain begin to poke against her bare arms and legs.

"The Prince of all Saiya-jins cares about _no one_," he said softly.

She could not take her eyes off of his onyx ones, and could not find her voice when abruptly Vegeta hoisted her up into his arms. Before she could comprehend what was happening, the sky blurred past her and then back again as she realized they were flying. Then Vegeta's feet touched the ground. They were in front of Capsule Corp. and he effortlessly set her down. He nodded to the door with his chin.

"Inside. The rain has begun."

Bulma, to not allow him see how much he had affected her, shot him a sardonic expression before she hurried in. It was most certainly not because of the rain or thunder though.

It was because, she realized with dawning awareness, that despite what he had just said, that was the closest thing he had done to caring since he had been there.

* * *

><p>Vegeta sat for a long, long time stewing over what had just happened.<p>

Despite what he had told the Earth woman, he remained outside in the rain, high up even. His circumstances were different, of course. No weather or lightning would affect a Saiya-jin to critical injury. So he sat far above the ground in a tree on his favorite thick branch. He had rested there often since he had been living at the place called Capsule Corporation. This tree was close enough to the gargantuan yellow building that he was permitted to look in the higher floors.

Sometimes he would see her later at night skitter throughout her room and back and forth through the halls. She was always moving.

The warm summer rain had him drenched but he didn't mind. It felt good over a long day of training.

Then, on cue, her bedroom light flicked on. He watched her; he was constantly watching her.

She momentarily released her silky locks from the ponytail it had been in and combed it through. She left it down and hesitated a moment before lighting a couple candles. His inhuman sense of smell could tell what they were even from there; fresh strawberry and vanilla.

She seemed to become distracted about something and she rested her elbows on the windowsill. Her impossibly blue eyes looked up to the sky. He wondered what she was thinking about.

Immediately, he sent a mental curse in defense. What did it matter what she was _thinking _about? How ridiculous. How would that help him attain the level of a Super Saiya-jin? He felt angry with himself for even taking her off the roof earlier as well. How did it concern him?

With his usual scowl on his face he told himself rationally it was merely because it would be unfortunate if something happened to the host who allowed him to live there. That was all.

But as the Earth woman continued to stare off at the pouring dark sky, with a sad look on her face, he realized he could not deny that he _did _want to know what it was that made her look like that.

* * *

><p>Bulma could not sleep that night.<p>

Her nerves were jittery and she realized she probably had consumed more caffeine than she should have throughout the day. Or maybe it was something, someone, else. Whatever the cause she was awake now.

Exiting her bedroom she slipped into the darkened hallway. She had walked a few meters down when a shadow moved. Bulma faltered and strained her eyes to see. She stared at him in the dim light of the hallway uncertainly when she recognized who it was. His guest room was down the hall from hers, after all.

"Can't sleep either?" She winced at such a generic line.

He made a deep guttural sound, which Bulma supposed was to mean the negative. Quiet passed between them. She did not know why he was still awake, but she hesitated and figured what harm could it do?

"Do…do you want to enjoy a nightcap with me?"

"Nightcap?"

"You know…a drink to help you sleep."

He was silent. Bulma shrugged, expecting him to launch into a frenzy about how he would not lower himself or it was beneath him. So it shocked her when he slowly nodded his head.

"Sure. Why not."

Holding her breath Bulma led him to a sitting room a few doors down from her own bedroom in the opposite direction. She loved this sitting room; it even had a spacious balcony that revealed a spectacular view. The billowy curtains were open and flapped and twisted from the glass doors being open a crack. Through their translucent textile it gave view to the storm that still raged. Bulma poured herself a gin and tonic and when she asked Vegeta what he wanted, he requested the tonic without the gin. He did take a lime wedge, though.

They both took a chair by the sliding glass doors to have front-row seats for the summer storm. Neither of them spoke for awhile. They simply enjoyed their respective beverages in silence and observed the thunderstorm.

"What was it like?" she asked finally. Maybe it was the slight relaxation effects of the alcohol, or maybe because she had been curious for a long time. "On your planet?"

Vegeta regarded her critically. An amused smirk graced his lips. "Oh? And you'd want to know?"

"Well, I'm asking, idiot."

He threw his head back and laughed. His scarred fingers stroked around the perspiration coating his glass as he thought for a moment.

"The planet was rough and in dire conditions. It was very hot and not much scenery. Despite the searing conditions there was an abundance of preserved lakes. There were endless fields that stretched open and open. It was brutal and made the perfect conditions for training."

Bulma thought it sounded awful. Evidently not to the Saiya-jin prince.

She told him as much and he merely smirked at her, quite unbothered.

"An Earthling such as yourself would not understand."

"Clearly."

She paused and then asked, "Do you…miss it?"

"Yes."

"What do you think you will do after the androids? Where will you leave?"

Vegeta pursed his lips together and leaned back in his chair. "I have not considered that yet. I will go wherever the conditions are right so that I can continue to train to be the greatest warrior."

Bulma looked down and the tiniest hints of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Well, that could be anywhere. What's important is where you consider a place home. And because you no longer have one, you had better start thinking of a substitute."

"Home?" he lightly scoffed, "Now that is a foreign idea to me."

"Not really…It can be wherever you like."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Because it is, Vegeta."

They observed each other for a long moment after that in the dark.

"Why did you ask me to sit with you?" he said at last.

"Why? Well, like you said. Why not?" she smiled.

The storm was still going on outside and provided the perfect amount of background noise to the otherwise quiet room. She thought he was going to say something, but instead he closed himself off.

"Goodnight…Bulma."

"Goodnight Vegeta."

* * *

><p>Bulma could not focus very well on her work the next morning and was not at the level of quality she took pride in. The summer storm had carried on throughout most of the night. Even after her interlude with the Saiya-jin warrior she did not succumb to sleep immediately. Now she forced herself to keep working through for about another hour when she stopped for a break. She was hoping to clear her mind.<p>

After pouring herself a glass of iced tea and noncommittally munching on some strawberries she decided to make a phone call. She simply put it on speaker phone so her hands could be free to graze if she so chose. Her friend answered on the second ring.

"Son residence!"

"Hi, Chi-Chi. It's Bulma."

"Hey, Bulma! It's nice to hear from you. How are things?"

"Good. I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"

"No, just doing laundry. The break is welcome."

"Same. Well, break from work that is."

"Getting a lot accomplished? Inventing new things?" Bulma could detect the smile in Chi-Chi's voice. She had always been impressed by what Bulma did.

"You could say that," Bulma smiled back. She pivoted on her heel and stared out the window at the gravity machine.

"Chi-Chi…"

"Hmm?"

"What is it like…to be married to a Saiya-jin?"

"What it's like to be married to a Saiya-jin?" Chi-Chi repeated her question nonplussed at the change of pace, "Well, as you can imagine I'm sure. Why…do you ask?"

Bulma bit her bottom lip in contemplation and realized how ridiculous she sounded. "Never mind," she amended quickly.

"Bulma?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well…"

"What, Chi-Chi."

"Well," Bulma could hear the raven-haired woman take a breath on the other line, "We're worried about you."

Bulma leaned her back against the counter with her eyebrows raised to her hairline. "Who's 'we'? And why is 'we' worried?"

"We're concerned about you being alone with that…that Saiya-jin madman Vegeta."

Bulma fell utterly still. For some reason, her skin prickled in defense for the warrior.

"Chi-Chi that's ridiculous. What do you think he's going to do? All he cares about is training."

"Well, you never know how someone that possessed could react. Give him a bad day and…I'm not scaring you, am I?"

"No. You're making me angry."

"Angry?"

"And there's nothing wrong with Vegeta. So he's a little proud and blood-thirsty and lives for the fight."

She was overcome with sentiment and in fever she ended the call and slammed her cell phone across the counter. Indignant, she realized that she should probably call Chi-Chi back later. However, when she glanced up what she saw startled to her core. Vegeta was staring at her intently in the doorway.

He had heard every word.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hello there! I hope to find you in good health and spirits. Is the weather starting to warm up finally? And well here it looks like "someone" is starting to get attached :} And oh Bulma, speaker phone is never a good idea. What do you think so far? I'd love some input, opinions and suggestions! Until next time —

Vaniti


	5. Chapter 5

**Revelation to Vegeta**

**By:** Vaniti

**Disclaimer:** Dragonball Z © Akira Toriyama

* * *

><p><strong>Five<strong>

Frontal

Bulma remained rooted in place with hundreds of different rebuttals soaring through her head. Would she be defensive? Would she accuse him that he was in the wrong for eavesdropping? Would she attempt to mock him for slacking off with his training? What if she merely excused herself from the room?

She inhaled deeply and folded her arms across her chest as she continued to engage in eye-contact with Vegeta.

"Yes? Can I help you?" She went the defensive route.

He observed her for an excruciatingly long moment.

"Actually, you can. But this is much more interesting now. Would you like to explain to me what **that** was about? I'd imagine I'd have the right to know…After all, I was the primary subject of conversation. Tell me, was that Kakarott's wife you were speaking to?"

Bulma felt the telltale flush scald her cheeks. She wanted to die.

"Mind your own business."

"You made it _everyone's _business by having a broadcasted conversation. And as I mentioned…I couldn't help but notice I was the primary topic."

Bulma gritted her teeth but did not say anything. She could not say anything; words failed her. Vegeta proceeded.

"Did I hear incorrectly? Or were you speaking in my favor?"

"I think you've made it pretty clear you heard everything."

"And I couldn't _also_ help but absorb that those weakling Earth warriors are apprehensive about me being here," Vegeta's tone changed. He raised a dark eyebrow scornfully, "Why aren't you?"

Bulma could handle questions directly regarding herself at the very least. She had answers for those although she did not in terms of speaking favorably for the ruthless Saiya-jin warrior. She raised her chin complacently.

"Why _would_ it concern me if you're here? The first day you arrived you were reeking and in desperate need of a bath. You still are. And if you don't like my living accommodations then you can get the hell out."

The faintest of smirks tugged at the corners of Vegeta's lips. Seemingly satisfied, he folded his arms over his chest and shut his eyes for a moment.

"Have I ever told you that your spirit was better suited for a Saiya-jin?"

"I should be thankful I'm not though. I wouldn't want to lose my intelligence."

They both gazed at each other and chuckled simultaneously.

"Well. It is either incredibly brave of you, or incredibly foolish, to have permitted a Saiya-jin into your home in the first place. Those weaklings are right about that."

"They have names, you know. And I've never been concerned about you."

"I've observed as much. Commendable."

"It won't be if you keep taking breaks from training and don't become stronger so you can beat the androids. So, if that's all…"

"Don't worry about me, woman. I am, and always will, be the greatest."

"But you're not a Super Saiya-jin yet."

Abruptly Bulma realized she had gone too far. Vegeta was suddenly right in front of her; a callous glare marred his features. Their banter had dissolved.

"I wouldn't _need_ to be a Super Saiya-jin to end your life with the flick of my hand," he warned with menace.

His threat was quite real and Bulma swallowed as discreetly as she could. Well, no kidding, she wanted to say.

"But… you wouldn't," she heard herself articulating instead.

"Oh?"

"You said so yourself. It would be unfortunate if anything happened to me; your host."

"Then you should be lucky that you are. Although if I were you, I would hold your tongue. Particularly in the mocking of obtaining the level of Super Saiya-jin." He pulled away and straightened his posture.

"Who said it was mocking?" she snapped irritably, "I'm telling you to get back to training so you can reach it faster. If _you_ think you can do it, then of course you can. But don't let petty conversations distract you." Bulma crossed her arms over her chest and did not meet his eyes.

They were both silent. At last, Vegeta's trademark smirk returned after a few evaluating seconds. Bulma might have been mistaken, but something of respect lurked in his gaze.

"And I **will**. However, there is one thing."

Bulma now peered up at him with raised eyebrows.

"The gravity machine —"

Out of habit, she desperately lunged towards the window to check if the gargantuan capsule was still there.

"If you blew it up again, I **swear**—" Thankfully the gravity machine was still intact as it had been before she had momentarily gotten on the phone.

Vegeta's smirk remained glued in place. "I appreciate the new gravitational pull device you added to it. Now is there any chance you can manipulate the gravity to different frequencies throughout the chamber?"

She had to be crazy that none of this fazed her.

* * *

><p>Bulma rubbed at her eyes and took a long swill of her cold coffee.<p>

She had been fighting sleep but had not wanted to stop her work for the night. More often than not if she took a break she did not gain her momentum back.

Her slender fingers moved rapidly over her keyboard as she pulled up her virtual diagram. She looked it over once more. Changing one of the numerical figures slightly to give it an odd principle she re-launched her virtual replication. With a nip on her lower lip, she typed in the quantities to see if she were able to target specific areas with a particular pull of gravity without creating a vortex of unbalance; she prayed she hit the right coordinates this time.

She had worked throughout the night, the numbers never being quite right. And she was in her basement laboratory, so she had missed the morning fingers of sunlight poking the world awake. While she did not see the sun her circadian clock still sensed its arrival and she was no longer grossly weary.

It was nine 'o clock in the morning when she completed Vegeta's request.

She did not know 100% if it would work once she actually installed the system, but according to her simulations it would. That would have to do for now.

Deeply satisfied, the turquoise-haired woman arched her back and allowed her body to stretch.

She headed upstairs running her knuckles over her bleary eyes. She put on a fresh pot of coffee. Somehow she was not really hungry, so she waited for the coffee to brew. That was when Bulma heard a knock at the door. Thinking she had imagined it during her sleep deprivation, she heard the rapping again and rose to her feet.

Standing there was Chi-Chi.

Shit, Bulma thought. She had forgotten to call her back to apologize and explain to her that everything was alright.

Wiping at the sleep in her eyes once more, Bulma opened the front door with a bit of a lethargic smile.

"Chi-Chi, I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to hang up on you. I know you were just concerned…" Bulma directly launched into her apology.

Chi-Chi shook her head appearing a bit awkward. Hurriedly she thrust a basket at Bulma.

"Here, please accept this. I made an assortment of fruit muffins. I'm sorry about yesterday, I didn't mean to offend you. I was – am – worried about you, that's all."

Bulma accepted the small wood picnic basket. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that. And I know you were just talking out of concern, and rightfully so, I guess. But I promise, Chi-Chi, I'm okay. There's nothing to worry about. Vegeta isn't as bad as everyone thinks."

Chi-Chi considered her skeptically and it was evident to Bulma that the raven-haired woman did not believe her. Her evident fatigue probably did not help her cause, either.

"Really. Besides, I can hold my own."

"There's no doubting that. But against a power-hungry Saiya-jin warrior is a bit of a different story…"

"I'm fine." Bulma said with more conviction.

Chi-Chi swiftly nodded. "Alright. But maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea if one of the boys came to check in on you every once in awhile. I know Yamcha would be happy to…"

Bulma's mouth drew in a straight line and her displeasure crept across her face. So, this was what this was partially about. It wasn't Chi-Chi's fault. She knew her friend was sincerely concerned about her. But if Yamcha was moping around at the Son house putting ideas in her head about the "danger" she was in… Damn him. When was enough enough?

"And that would be the last thing I need." Bulma sharply inhaled. She did not want to get into a fight with Chi-Chi over this. It wasn't worth it. "I promise, I'm fine, dandy. Do you want to come in for some coffee? I just put some on."

Hesitantly, Chi-Chi shook her head in polite decline.

"I just wanted to apologize and drop those off to you. I have some grocery shopping to do in the city, and so much to do at home, as usual. It was nice to see you, Bulma."

Bulma offered her another weary smile. While most of the gang thought Chi-Chi to be violent and temperamental, she had always been kind to her. She knew Chi-Chi had her best interest at heart, but how could she possibly explain to her?

Bulma said goodbye and wished her a successful shopping trip. She watched Chi-Chi's figure walk away until she reached where she had parked her emerald hover car. Bulma stood there and waved until her friend disappeared before returning back to the kitchen. She set the basket down and turned to pour herself more coffee. She was exhausted.

"You look like hell." She jumped at his brusque voice and turned around; Vegeta was already munching on one of the mixed berry muffins Chi-Chi had made.

With his usual lithe movements he had slipped in and she hadn't even noticed until he had said something. Had he been watching her while she had distantly stared off?

Bulma laughed in spite of herself. "So do you."

"I'm a warrior. I could care less about appearances. Who was just here?"

"I'm a genius. I could care less about how I look while I'm working. And what, are you checking up on me?"

"Can't you just answer the damn question?"

"Ah, you're as bubbly as ever this morning. And it was Goku's wife."

"Hm." Vegeta thought about this for a second, "Is she still here? May I go out and frighten her? Perhaps act like I'm rabid to give her cause for real alarm."

"How would that be different than the norm?" Bulma wryly inquired, "And you will do no such thing."

"Very well. Although the notion is rather tempting."

Bulma rolled her eyes.

"So. How long will it take before the new conflicting gravities are installed… if you _can _do it?"

"That's what I wanted to tell you. With great delight, might I add."

Vegeta arched an eyebrow.

"I did it."

Bulma relished in the surprise that colored Vegeta's features. He lowered his arms in astonish.

"You completed it? Already?"

"Easy," she winked and then gestured to herself, "Maybe this explains how I look now."

"Hmpf. Not _too_ bad; I suppose I'll grant you a free pass. Just this once," Vegeta grumbled something along those lines under his breath.

"Generous of you. I'm sure it killed you to admit as much. But now if you'll excuse me I have to shower off."

Bulma fixed him with an expression that made Vegeta express uncertainty. What was it in this woman's face that made him speculate?

"What are you looking at? I said I'm going to shower, get over it. I won't look like hell for much longer, geez," she muttered under her breath stomping away. She glowered at the dry chuckle from behind her. "And don't eat all of those muffins!"

Only she did not go to shower immediately.

She was distracted when her phone rang, and it was Krillin hoping to amend things from his hasty departure awhile back. They spent no more than ten minutes, and Bulma hung up feeling beaten down. This was the last thing she needed. Why did it seem that everyone was stumbling over each other just to "check up" on her? Shaking her head, she told herself she would worry about it later. Now, she just wanted to shower and go to sleep.

She had just trudged up the staircase and down the hall when she stopped in her tracks. She stared at the closed door with the telltale sound of water running from behind it. Her parents never traveled to these quarters of the house, as they were hers. Which meant one thing.

That egotistical Saiya-jin prince was in _her _favorite shower.

Out of all the showers to choose from at Capsule Corporation – and there was well over ten showers – he had to choose the one she had declared her favorite. Classic.

Running on minimal amounts of sleep and delirious from her all-nighter Bulma was in no mood to wait. True, she could have simply moved to another shower. It unquestionably would have been a more practical solution. But she would not succumb to defeat. This was _her _house and_ her _shower.

"Vegeta," she shouted through the barricade of the door. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Showering, what do you think?" He yelled back.

"Get out of my shower! That is _my_ shower!"

"You'll just have to wait," he called his smug reply.

"I will do no such thing. Do you hear me? I was up all night for your ass the least you could do is allow me my favorite shower, you Saiya-jin prick!"

He did not reply and her blood boiled. Indignantly she cranked the doorknob and discovered it had been unlocked. With the self-righteousness of her temper she shoved the door open.

Standing directly before her, with a full-frontal nude view, was of course none other than the drenched Saiya-jin prince.

Now, obviously she had seen men naked before. She had most definitely interacted with these said men. However, something about seeing this Saiya-jin warrior exposed and dripping water droplets from his shower, made her heart race into her throat. Bulma temporarily forgot how to swallow.

He regarded her critically, and not in embarrassment, which perhaps unnerved her more so. It had then just dawned on her that she was staring.

"See something you like?" he taunted with – Kami help her – what she considered close to a flirtatious gesture.

"Oh. **That**. I hardly noticed it at all." That was a lie. A BIG lie; and yes, horrible pun intended.

Bulma finally managed to swallow and conceitedly tilted her head in an attempt to display indifference.

"Very well then. Allow me a moment and then you shall have your beloved shower. That is, unless you want to stay," Vegeta smirked.

Bulma almost made a retort along the lines of "in his dreams". However, a different line invaded her mind and she heard herself uttering it before she could stop herself.

"Oh? And is that an invitation, Saiya-jin Prince?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hee hee:) Sorry to stop right there but it will be more promising next time! I love writing B x V – it makes me a bit giddy at times haha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I will get another update out soon. What do you think so far? Comments, thoughts, and opinions make me happy (heart). Until next time, very sincerely yours —

Vaniti


	6. Chapter 6

**Revelation to Vegeta  
><strong>**By:** Vaniti  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Dragonball Z © Akira Toriyama

**Six  
><strong>Unification

"Oh? And is that an invitation, Saiya-jin Prince?"

There the words were. They had spilled out like red wine onto plush white carpet and had already begun to soak in. Crawling all over her skin was the temperature of the steady water that provided a constant stable backdrop. The humidity in the enclosed bathroom seemed to keep escalating with forming clouds of steaming vapor. But seemingly all other movement was ambiguous and glossy as if she were watching and experiencing it through a kaleidoscope. Who was this woman she was watching from faraway? It seemed to be her body, but she could not quite bring herself back down to reality.

Sleep deprivation had played its tricks and toll on her. The hotness in the air had made it feel as though her head were disconnected from the rest of her. She was vaguely aware of what was occurring but as a ghost, a spirit, watching. It was not actually her, was it?

His calloused hand lingered on the swell of her hip.

The mere contact from his fingertips, touching her, jolted her awake.

It was not like she imagined for a man who was so ruthless and obsessed with training to be the strongest.

Her heart beat shallowly against her ribcage. Consenting air seemed to be blocked through her trachea. Her gut tangled in excruciating knots. She felt alive as a mixture of fear and excitement crawled through her pores.

He regarded her critically at first; not by her appearance but by what to do with her. How he should proceed. His touch, while his hand was calloused and baking with warmth, was ginger; as if he did not know how much pressure she could take. She found herself swallowing and placing her own hand over his to show he could apply more force.

He took her into his arms and Bulma relished in the defined, masculine feel of his chest. Despite all the people Vegeta had fought and destroyed and the wary stigma he had created for himself, Bulma felt at ease in his arms.

Then he recoiled.

Ostensibly, the trance-induced state left like a bird fleeing into the sky upon approaching risk. Acute awareness slipped its damning noose around his neck.

He eyed her with revulsion and Bulma found herself hastily backing up in defense. She wrapped her emotional shields around the pride she had left. Her heart crammed itself into her windpipes and she almost did not think she could breathe.

The turquoise-haired woman could not bear his expression or the embarrassment and hurt that swelled up in her chest capillaries.

For once, she could not summon any words she thought were appropriate for the humiliation.

His retreat was branded like an unwanted tattoo in her head.

So she left without saying anything else. She kept her head high until long out of sight.

* * *

><p>The next morning greeted her with grey skies and dull clouds with the consistency of Elmer's glue. The sky had broke open and had cried earlier in the morning, but before Bulma had awoken. Someplace in a distant dream she had heard the raindrops pelting against the pavement and roof of Capsule Corp. like infiltrating little soldiers. Now the Earth remained wet, the puddles dark in the dreary light.<p>

She sat at her laptop staring off absentmindedly out her window. Her fingers remained poised over the keyboard but did not produce any work or words. Her coffee was black and cold.

Some time later, she was not sure how much, she robotically took a sip. Its icily putrid taste somewhat revitalized her back to the present. Wincing, she eyed the tiny clock on her laptop screen and blanched.

11:22am.

How had over two hours passed without her having a retrievable thought? She gritted her teeth and hastily stood up. She needed to knock this off. There was far too much work to do to afford sitting around like a silly young girl daydreaming.

Quickly, she slipped on a headband to smooth back her turquoise bangs and grabbed her coffee mug. She bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. She had always been concerned about her figure, but it seemed these days she had less and less of an appetite.

She had just turned the corner when it was too late to go back.

Vegeta was already in the kitchen, the first time she had seen him since their personal encounter yesterday. The mortification of it circled like an unpleasant track on repeat. Although her heart felt like it was stuck in her wind pipe, she received the distinct impression that he sensed her before he saw her. His back and pan of broad shoulders were facing her, but he did not turn around. The slightest tilt of his face indicted he knew.

For a split second she seriously contemplated turning back. But that would be too easy and too coward for her. Hadn't he made the first move, after all? Distinctly aware that her face felt hot she strode in the kitchen and marched right up to the coffee pot.

"Vegeta."

There was a snake of silence that crept by. After she had poured the measured amount of water into the coffee maker, ignoring her slightly trembling hands, he gruffly acknowledged her.

She heard movement and could not help herself. She was possessed to peer over her shoulder. He was exiting the kitchen. His spine was rigid and posture tense; fists in tightly clenched balls. However, he had not escaped before she caught a glimpse of the stormy chaos brewing in his black eyes.

The turquoise-haired woman could not quite place her finger on why her chest squeezed like a wrung-out towel. What she did know was that she was furious and ashamed in herself.

She slammed down the black plastic coffee grind holder.

_'STUPID! Completely, utterly stupid!' _

She replayed last night's "incident" and winced. What had possessed her to say the things she did and act so bold? Her brazenness had evolved into a complete new level.

_'Hey,' _Her subconscious consoled sharply, _'It's not like you forced yourself on him. He's the one who openly stood there…naked. And made a salacious invitation.'_

It was true, but that did not erase things. He had changed his mind and had not considered her desirable after all. She felt a new emotion that she was not familiar with. Shame.

Sadly, she waited for her coffee to brew before listlessly trekking back up the stairs to continue with her work.

* * *

><p>"Bulma, sweetie," Her mother poked her Shirley Temple blonde head into her room. "Your father and I are headed up to the city for dinner! How about you join us?"<p>

Bulma glanced at her watch and shook her head. A little after five 'o clock already.

"No, thanks, Mom. Not really hungry."

"But you haven't eaten all day! Come on, we're going to try that Bahama Breeze place. Heard that they just have the most wonderful appetizers and the drinks are to die for!"

"Sounds great, but I need to get some work done."

"You've been working all day. You deserve a break. Besides," Mrs. Brief folded her hands in front of herself beseechingly, "It would be so nice just to have the three of us go out."

Idly, her turquoise gaze wandered out the window where she could see the looming training capsule. Vegeta had been in there all day as well. Had he even come out for food…

"Bulma? Sweetie, did you hear what I just said?"

"Yes, I did. Sorry Mom. I'm just not in the mood."

Seeing the open disappointment on her mother's face stirred some feelings of guilt. Dramatically, she heaved a loud sigh.

"Fine. Just give me some time to shower and change."

"Oh, good! Fifteen minutes?" Mrs. Brief transparent smile beamed out at her.

"Twenty."

As her mother cheerfully scuttled away with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever, Bulma briefly entertained the idea of Vegeta going to dinner with them. She snorted. Yeah, right.

Vegeta, in civilian clothing, politely requesting how he wanted his steak prepared to the waiter.

A little past twenty minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Brief were buckled up and waiting in the capsule hover car. When she stepped out, they waved at her as if they just spotted her at a ball game and had been saving a seat for her. Bulma shook her head but could not deny the fondness that welled in her chest. No matter what, her parents always tried to see the positive side of things, and approached every little moment with keenness. She wondered where she got _her _disposition from.

She cast one more glance over at the training capsule where bursts of light would consistently flicker and blasts would rock its dome shape.

The scene from the night before flared its ugly head again and the disgrace tightened in her chest.

The more she thought about it the more unforgivable it became. Her actions were stupid. No matter what race Vegeta was, he was a man. He was just acting out of biological instinct. Of course he had needs too. Purely physical ones.

The thought violated and disappointed her at once. Then she composed herself and pasted on a cheery smile as she strode over to join her parents for dinner.

* * *

><p>Vegeta straightened his posture and used his forearm to wipe the thick sweat off his face. Momentarily satisfied, he had gotten in a good training session today. As he swiped it away his watch caught the scene out the window. He slowly lowered his arm. The woman's parents were clearly waiting on her to run out somewhere. The woman was obviously taking her sweet time. Then he saw the look on her face.<p>

What caused her to gaze like that?

Was it… grief that he saw?

He glowered. Things like that were sentiments he did not understand. Nor did he care to. The humans were so weak. Always talking about how they felt. Pathetic.

A most unwelcome thought slithered into his mind. Was it because of…?

He had pushed the encounter from the night before out of his head all day by using his training as a primary focus. Or he had tried to. What could have happened… He cursed himself. It was weak of him. And stupid. He did not want to make the same mistake twice. Her undeniable beauty and tenaciousness had appealed to him and he had lost control. He would not let it happen again. No more weakness.

Yet as he spared one more glance and saw her face light up as she trotted over to where her parents waited, he could see exactly why he thought her so attractive when those long legs stretched to climb into the levitating vehicle.

* * *

><p>It was well after a blood-orange sunset when Bulma returned from dinner with her parents. The full pearl of a moon still hung low in the sky and the blanket of air was lukewarm with no humidity. She had been thoroughly enjoying the break from the usual scorching temperatures of summer on her adjourning balcony. The coolness of the evening was unexpected, she had been thinking. That was when she realized she had forgotten her purse outside. She blamed this slightly on the few Hurricanes her father had talked her into during Happy Hour and then during dinner.<p>

"_And you are better than that."_ Vegeta's previous words regarding her past binge drinking crawled annoyingly into her mind.

She grimaced. Well, having a couple of cocktails at dinner was different than going around pounding shots and drinks with the intention of getting wasted on a regular basis. Not that she had to prove anything to him.

She shook her head as she spotted her MK handbag sitting by its lonesome after the car had been returned to its capsule.

She bent over to scoop it up and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"What's for dinner." Vegeta's low voice demanded what was typically presented as a question.

Suddenly conscious of leaning over in shorts in front of him, Bulma hastily straightened up. Gaining control, she skewered him with her distasteful glare.

"What is this? A twenty-four hour dine-in? I see you know how to grill meat. Fix something yourself." She hated how secretly she relished in the normalcy he was displaying with her. As if last night had not happened at all.

She didn't want to admit it, but she had been afraid it would. Especially after how uncomfortable this morning had been.

"So am I to assume your pitiable trip of familial nature allowed an Earthling peasant to serve you rations?"

Bulma thoughtfully bit her lower lip, trying not to emit a chuckle. From what she grasped, Vegeta did not understand the concept of going out to eat. He considered the waiters and waitresses "peasants"/servants.

"Yes. So you have to fend for yourself. Sorry Prince of Saiya-jins." Bulma indifferently tossed her hair over the shoulder.

His coal gaze darkened and his deep features almost blended in with the night-blanketed forest behind him. His skin, albeit being scarred always had a rich caramel tan to it. With the illustrious glow of the moon, it made a stark contrast to the whites of his eyes and teeth when he spoke. He took a step closer to her.

"You feign nonchalance?"

"I'm not faking anything. I could care less about your eating habits."

His eyes melted until she could no longer differentiate his pupils from his irises. His features were drawn into uniform intent.

"I was no longer talking about food, woman."

Her breath hitched in her throat. "Oh? What were you referring to then?" Her voice strangely did not sound like hers.

Before her human eyes could process it, he was standing right before her. He was still bare-chested from his training and his rippling muscles – solid definition in places she didn't even know existed – was not lost on her. Every pore from him oozed strength, dominance, and command.

His deepening intensity gave her her answer. There was no vagueness as to what he was referencing. And she glared. Rage so swift flared through her veins.

"Wasn't it _you_ who decided that our little encounter last night was not up to your liking? And you accuse me of feigning nonchalance? Get over yourself. Or stop being so bipolar. Either way, you need a reality check."

"Wanting something is a _weakness_. I never claimed so otherwise," Vegeta responded sharply.

"Well, I'm sorry you have issues. But you would do better to leave me out of them." Indignation and some of the buzz from alcohol fueling her, Bulma turned on her heel to storm off.

When his hand lashed out and caught her by the wrist.

Her heart hitched and she stared back at him. He could have snapped and was about to harm her; he was a coldblooded killer by nature.

"What do you want from me," she whispered.

In answer, he threw her body against his. She felt his strength and vigor against the perfection of his chest. She quivered, her blood pounding too shrill in her ears. And it was being pressed against him she felt him harden.

His calloused fingers were on her forearms. He tugged her even closer to him, his mouth first capturing her neck and then moving up to her mouth. A winding and curling thrill pulsed through her. Her blood throbbed even louder in her ears. All the menace and dangerous power with Vegeta only excited her. And she realized her argumentative nature excited him.

Usually being the one to be a leader, Bulma felt light-headed with something she could only explain as desire. Despite all the jeopardy Vegeta meant, arrogance, ruthlessness… she still could not deny the tightening deep in her stomach. Disregarding how he infuriated her to no bounds, how he was a heartless alien warrior…she lusted for him.

She had, always, once he had taken residence at her home, entertained the taboo notion of this moment. Now here it was.

Abruptly he released her and stared down at her face. They both seemed breathless. She had never seen the expression on his scarred face. Less than a mere second passed before his blazing stare addressed the unspoken question between them.

"Can I take you?" His eyes pooled like molten onyx.

The bluntness of the matter, or the words from his mouth, were not lost on her. There were no threads of ambiguity any longer. A ghost of conscious, what would her friends think, fleetingly haunted her.

But she, despite every single warning sign, wanted the Prince of Saiya-jins.

Her vision blurred as though she were a spectator underwater and her limbs grew hot with fever. She nodded yes.

The zeal overtook her until everything was hazy. She was hoisted into his arms. He was carrying her. Dizzy. They were soaring. They landed at her balcony. She had left the door open to let in the warm air. Now it was suffocating. How had he known it was open…

They were inside. She had barely gotten to the bed. He was tearing off her clothing. She was naked. He paused and took a moment to permit his gaze to linger. The moonlight filtering through the gauzy curtains illuminated highlights of her figure. Under his scrutiny sexual craving twisted deep in-between her legs. She was able to render him speechless. He unwillingly snapped out of his appraisal trance and finished disrobing.

She had seen him naked last night. Now, she had the knowledge this was no longer fantasy.

He hovered before her and the warmth and closeness of his bare skin sent shivers down her arms. The two, human and Saiya-jin, made eye-contact before they lowered themselves onto her bed; him guiding her with his body. Certainty laced each and every of his movements.

Bulma was not naïve. This would not be like how it was with Yamcha. Yamcha who told her he loved her. Yamcha would be courteous of her physical needs along with his own. Vegeta would be rough. Vegeta would be relentless for his own pleasure and go about his business when it was over.

She didn't care. The liquor-quick danger he exemplified, his flawless structure in body, she didn't care. The precarious pull of him made her want it more. Briefly, she trailed her fingers down the horrid gash on his chest; a battle tattoo from a close call in a fight. They were all over his body. He followed her stare. He smirked as though amused, or maybe proud, by her fascination.

Then his arms were pinning her down on either side caging her as his prisoner.

"You can still say no," he whispered, his voice gruff and close to her neck.

Her throat dried up and her heart catapulted into her lungs. And she looked him square in the eyes.

"Don't make me say it again."

His trademark smirk returned before his dark features shifted.

He sank himself into her quickly and forcefully. The dull pain entered her and ignited like a forest fire through her limbs. She gasped, and every thought disappeared. It was just primitive sensation alone. She only felt.

He looked into her face as he thrust. Prolonged need and anticipation were sated at last. She was melting in an inferno; on a seesaw between gratification and risk.

The dull but pleasurable ache from him filling her took over all other awareness; it was just his body in hers, in and out. He rapidly took on a quick and steady pounding that was relentless and harsh.

And still she heard herself calling his name, over and over again.

* * *

><p>AN: (Dodges tomatoes and cans and old boots) It's been a long time everyone! (Met with unforgiving glares) In all seriousness, I want to offer my deepest apology for the unreasonably long time it took to update. To sum it all effectively, I landed my career-path job and a lot has been on my mind. But, another reason it took so long to post is because I wanted to start writing future chapters so something like this does not happen again. They're not complete, but I wanted to at least get some basics down. So what did you think? I'm sorry if the end made anyone uncomfortable. I rated this story R, but I did not want to go into graphic details. I suppose if anyone wants to read an "adult continuation" I could write it and send it privately. Also, towards the end, before the actual act of intercourse, it was written choppy on purpose to express the abrupt and staccato beforehand. In any case, let me know your thoughts. It is the end of August so the next update will be in September. Until next time, sincerely yours —

Vaniti


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